Nightly Rounds
by DollarBill
Summary: Wesley and Angel finally (FINALLY) decide to try and get their friendship past that cold day when Wesley ran off with Connor. Post 'Home.'


Title: Nightly Rounds

Author: DollarBill

Email: Goldy05403@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: A:ts and all its characters belong to Joss. I'm not making a profit of this, blah, blah, blah.

Synopsis: Wesley and Angel have issues. They work them out. Undertones of B/A and W/L

Spoilers: Major spoilers for 'Home' and 'Chosen' as well as most of S3 and S4

A/N: Not a slashy fic. I tried to do undertones… but… who knows if I succeeded. Just a conversation between Wesley and Angel. Pretty basic.

Angel was giving the building of Wolfram & Hart one last survey before heading out for the night. He liked to check up upon the workers, make sure that everyone was performing their jobs to the best of their ability. That things were running smoothly and machinery was in good shape.

He enjoyed hearing people call him Mr. Angel and hanging on to his words like he was someone… important. He liked to make sure everyone was comfortable, that the men and women having problems at home were given special consideration. 

Angel believed that family should always come first.

He was making his rounds that night, as usual. Smiling his half smile while the scientists, the security guards, and the businessmen politely greeted him and asked after his health. It was important to Angel to remain friendly, but to never get too close. 

Bit by bit, he was learning to live and work among humans, and slowly, bit by bit, he was beginning to heal.

It was that night that he stopped outside the library. He'd never gone into make sure that things were running well in the library. He'd never checked to see if research was going well, if that prophecy had been deciphered yet.

He wished it were because he trusted Wesley enough to get the job done.

He wished it so, but he hadn't lived 250 years by lying to himself. He was a coward. He knew that he had to face Wesley eventually. But that irreparable part of him that was so human, desperately hoped that their friendship would miraculously reappear. 

Closing his eyes, he pushed the doors open. 

He found Wesley sitting at a desk, bending over a book and scribbling notes. The stubble that had become so prominent on his visage still gave Angel a small shock of surprise. Wesley looked as though he hadn't slept or left the place in a few days… though, Angel supposed, he always looked like that now.

Angel refused to let himself feel guilty.

Wesley looked up, a small, ironic smile flirting across his face upon seeing his visitor. "Just checking to make sure everything is running smoothly?"

Angel sighed, sitting down at the round table across from Wesley. "Where's everyone else?"

Wesley chuckled. "I don't work with anyone else, I call people in when I need it, but mostly I find these things run smoother when I'm on my own. I'm not the greatest communicator of our time."

Angel refused to look any deeper into that comment than need be. "I know that we haven't talked…"

"At all," Wesley interrupted. "At all since we got here and you found the opposite end of the top floor to your liking."

Angel looked him dead in the eye. "I'm not going to be the one to come grovelling at your feet."

Wesley leaned back, considered him. "And, despite what you may believe, neither am I."

Angel felt the anger in his blood rise. He ignored it. "You remember what happened. You remember Connor. I know you do."

"Perhaps."

Angel resisted the urge to hit the table with his fist. "You do."

Wesley rubbed his throat. "It would be too much of a blessing to let me forget."

Angel took a breath, settled back. "I'm here because I miss your friendship. I can't run this place alone."

"I did what was right, Angel," Wesley said softly, looking at his hands. "God knows, I've had plenty of time to think over it. I did the only thing I could."

"Maybe," Angel acquiesced. "But I can't… you took his life away from me. He came back and he… he never loved me."

"He loved you when he was a baby." Wesley looked at him, "He loved you with the infallible trust that only a child can have for their father."

"You took that away."

Wesley sighed, rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Angel."

Angel felt the familiar anger come rushing back to him. 'You took him, when he was just a baby, you took him and he's never coming back…I killed him and he's never coming back. Never coming back.' 

In an even voice he said, "I'm sorry I almost choked you to death with a pillow."

Wesley snorted. "Bullshit. You'll never feel sorry for that. Some part of you will always wish you'd done it. A part of you will always want to finish the job."

Angel regarded him silently, refusing to either deny or affirm his words. Because he knew they were true. "Look, the point is… the point is, I'm ready to move past that. I need you beside me in what we're getting into with Wolfram & Hart. And I don't need someone that's just an associate. I need someone I can trust with my life… I need a friend."

"The prophecy came true in the end," Wesley said slowly, like he was just realizing that point.

Angel swallowed. "I did what I had to do."

"You did… perhaps because of me."

"I recommend we don't start down that road," Angel said in a low voice.

"Of course." Wesley stood, pulled out the top drawer of his shelf behind him. "Brandy?"

Angel winced. "Why not?"

Wesley passed him a glass. "I got quite good at drinking after my stint in the hospital. It's amazing what a little free time and guilt does to liquor tolerance."

Angel threw the glass down. "Not to mention doing those on the opposite side."

Wesley gestured around him. "Won us these haunts, didn't I?"

"How is Lilah, anyway? Having a little trouble getting on in the afterlife?"

Wesley got a far away look in his eye. "She knew what she was getting into when she signed the agreement with Wolfram & Hart."

"You wanted to save her."

"I wanted to take her to the other side of the planet, if it meant redeeming her. Lilah… she was too far-gone. She'd never save herself, much less let me save her. So I didn't do anything until it was too late."

Angel almost looked impressed. "You were falling in love with her."

Wesley expertly avoided the question. "I knew I could never get my redemption by staying with her."

"I'm sorry that Cordy killed her."

Wesley almost looked amused. "At least it wasn't Angelus. He'd be a little harder to choke with a pillow."

Angel chuckled. "Angelus would have, if Cordelia hadn't gotten their first."

Wesley swallowed back his brandy. "He didn't, no use dwelling on the past that could have been."

Angel nodded. "Amen to that."

Interested, Wesley filled their glasses back up. "How was Sunnydale?"

"Sunnydale?" Angel asked, accepting the drink. "Or Buffy?"

"Both, actually."

Angel raised his eyebrows. "Sunnydale is gone, Wes. Even you must have heard the story about the asteroid hitting the earth at a time when all residents of Sunnydale were on vacation."

"She's that good, hmm?"

Angel knocked down his drink. "She seemed happy to see me." Angel paused, deciding not to share with Wesley *how* happy she'd been. "She seemed pretty involved, though. With Spike."

Wesley nearly dropped his drink. "I failed as a watcher. One slayer as an insane mass murdered, the other as a vampire layer. Bloody brilliant."

Angel gave him a dirty look. "They weren't sleeping together… I think," he added uncertainly.

"Does she love him?"

Angel thought about it. He didn't really need to, though. It had been the same question echoing through his mind the past few days. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "She wouldn't exactly answer me when I asked. 

Wesley looked almost amused. "You asked her if she was in love with her current boyfriend? Very good way to get in her good graces."

Angel shot him a dark look. "You shouldn't be the one giving relationship advice. And… he's not her boyfriend. She wouldn't answer that question either."

Wesley didn't even blink. "I *know* Fred doesn't love Gunn… and I didn't have to ask. And questioning Buffy about her love life, great way to prepare for a big battle. Bloody romantic, that is."

"It was," Angel huffed, "there was this whole thing where she dropped the axe when she saw me and… I'm not telling you the rest of this story."

"Glad it went well, then."

Angel looked idly around the place. It was musty, but well stocked. Books were crammed into every available corner of the room. And it was a large room. "I don't want to talk about Buffy. Not to you, anyway."

Wesley accepted the dig and drank down his liquor. "I've been researching this particular prophecy…"

Angel looked sharply up. "I don't trust prophecies."

Wesley glanced around the room. "Wolfram & Hart has the most complete collection of otherworldly books and fortunes that I've ever come across."

"Prophecies never tell you the whole story, Wes. They're glimpses. They leave out the people who are affected, who get hurt in the way. It's better not to know."

"Connor's birth was prophesized," Wesley reminded him gently.

"So was his death. By my hand."

"I never said the Powers weren't cruel."

Angel looked off into space. "I'll never be able to forget him, Wes. Every time I see another child, he'll come back to me. If I ever… if I ever have a child, two, three, I won't be able to look at them without seeing his face."

"Maybe that's the way it should be," Wesley suggested quietly.

Angel abruptly got up, almost knocking the table over in the process. "You don't know how it should be, you robbed me of finding that out."

Wesley opened the book he'd been reading when Angel entered the library. "One step at a time, I see. Good-night, Angel."

Angel let out a breath. "Thanks for listening," he said tightly.

Wesley's lips curved into an amused smile. "Thanks for not trying to kill me."

Angel chuckled. "We're already making progress. Hopefully I'll see you around… I might be checking up in the library in the future. Make sure things are running smoothly."

"Good, good. Well, I can only promise to do the same, should a life shattering prophesy arise. I'll let you know."

'This time,' Angel added darkly in his mind. "Oh, and, Wes?"

"Hmm?"

"Get a razor."

Wesley experimentally touched his chin. The skin was rough beneath his fingertips. He smiled.

"Only when you lay off the hair gel."

END


End file.
